Log: Broken Blade: Sword Training
| Date | Title | People | Location |
| May 11, 2015 | Log: Broken Blade: Sword Training | Kyson and Godwyn | Practice Grounds |
Parade Grounds.
The sky is painted with a rosy hue as the sun barely crests the horizon. A woman with leather bracers and greaves, a black tunic and brown trousers, and flaxen hair braided into a working style, sits on her knees facing the sun. Her eyes are closed, breathing nearly imperceptible.
Godwyn... waits.
Kyson has tried to be early for his lesson - really, he did. His master, however, had other duties for him that ran late. Nearly sprinting to get to the parade grounds, he drops his satchel, shoulder-bag and staff near where the Paladin has situated herself as he calls, "Sorry...sorry..."
Godwyn nods and gets to her feet. "Early in the morning, every morning."
She lifts a waster and whirls the hilt around her right hand, throwing him the one in her left. She doesn't expect him to catch it.
Kyson snatches the blade (assuming that's what it is) out of the air by the hilt and swishes it around rather dramatically. Though he's never held a 'real' sword, he's been working with sticks and branches as his own, imaginary blades since he was a child.
Godwyn chuckles. She wouldn't treat him like some child. But... "Are we play acting now, Kyson? Or are you swinging a live weapon?" She pokes the pointy end of the waster into the ground. "Stop and face me."
Kyson shrugs, "I'm swinging a wooden sword," he explains simply and turns to face the paladin curiously. He's not -trying- to be difficult but he's not exactly the 'martially inclined' type.
Godwyn chuckles. "Are you now?" She lifts the weapon. "Do you feel how heavy it is? Can you sense the balance, the point of percussion?" She points the sword at him. "Wooden weapons simulate live ones. Therefore... treat it as a very sharp, very dangerous object, and respect it." Kyson nods and moves the sword around with a less-swishy respect. Though unfamiliar the weight and feel of a 'true' sword he is at least mindful of the effort that Godwyn is showing in trying to help him learn. "Understood," he says in a formal tone.
Godwyn smiles. "No need to be formal with me. We're equals here, despite me teaching you." She lifts her head just slightly. "Right now, you are not holding the sword at all. Not with your body. You are holding the sword with your mind, trying to wrap your head around it. This is natural." She glances at her practice weapon. "You'll be obsessed with form, stance, figures, strikes and cuts. You'll be thinking about it forever and a day. That's fine, when you're not fighting."
Godwyn looks up at Kyson. "Think during a fight... and your body won't catch up with your brain. You know what happens then."
Kyson hrms and tilts his head to the side rather owl-like and watches the woman as though she were speaking a foreign language. Then, turning his storm-blue eyes down to the wooden sword in his hand he grips the handle a bit, raising it up to a position which closely approximates an 'en guard' sort of pose though the form is only a close guess based on what he's seen - not done. The blade's tip is too high, his wrist is not bent correctly, the blade is flat rather than on-edge and so on. There's a half-dozen things wrong with what he's doing other than 'thinking' of the sword - just like she said.
Godwyn chuckles. "Stand at an angle. Less targets for me to poke at." She lifts her weapon, putting the edge at a high guard... then swings at the weapon. It should not only get knocked aside, but carry him with it! "Grip! Loosen it, or your weapon will drag you around when someone does that."
Kyson hrms and attempts to adjust how he's holding the sword. Suddenly, as if something 'clicked' in his head, he seems to be able to put two and two together and the blade falls perfectly into place. He takes a step back into a fairly balanced stance with the weight properly weighted on the balls of his feet. His eyes narrow for -just- a moment and he assumes a posture one would think of a seasoned veteran. The moment passes as quickly as it came - the realization and focus seems to waver in his mind and he's now just 'thinking' about the blade.
Godwyn nods. "Stop. Stand at ease."
She tilts her head to the right. "Just now... what did you feel?"
Kyson relaxes his grip on the blade and his stance falls to a typical 'apprentice' version of a ready, relaxed posture. "Uh...I dunno," he lies. "It just sort of hit me how to do it...I think."
Godwyn grins. "You stopped thinking. What I mean to say by that is not that you lost common sense, but the thought of how to hold the sword simply... vanished, didn't it?"
Kyson nods, "Yeah...a little. I was distracted by something and then it just sort of came together in my head." Ahh, the moment of realization - and so quick. Maybe he's a quick study? "I...have been practicing with the hilt...a little." he admits though 'practicing' might mean a few dozen things.
Godwyn smirks. "Right. Well then, what distracted you?" This question is actually important.
The apprentice looks up at the paladin and asks, simply, "Do you ever get angry when you fight? Not just mad at something but a deep-seated, rage that boils in the pit of your stomach?" His voice, at first a normal tone, starts to darken as the question is asked. "You don't want to -just- beat the opponent," he continues, "...you want to -end- them. You want to remove them from history so that none will ever remember their name." The last part of the question apparently even shocked Kyson as his storm-grey eyes blink a few times as 'very manly water' starts to pool at the edges. After he looks away - from the dust or something - he looks back and the anger which was fueling his voice has gone. His eyes, now the usual cerulian of the sea, hold confusion and curiosity with equal weight.
Godwyn folds her arms in front of her. "I do get angry. Did once, at a big green dragon that threatened to eat my Goddess." She takes in a breath. "I regret that anger. I'm shocked at it."
She shrugs. "Anger is just like any other emotion. It is a tool. Anger can lead to focus, strength. The problem is when anger... becomes everything."
Kyson swallows dryly and observes the patterns of dust at his feet. "Yeah... I-I know," he stammers. "So what next?"